Reunion at Crane Lake Read online

  “Tia?”

  Grinning, she turned to Colt. “Sorry, I was daydreaming. This place just...” She bit back the words. Brings back memories. “Just drips with possibilities! You know? We can make this inn a great place to stay, get it listed on vacation websites.” She tapped the windowsill with her nails. “We’ll need our own site.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Great. You think big. I’m heading back to town for supplies.” He shut off the faucets. “I guess we’ll need to meet with the bank tomorrow to settle the finances? That is, if you don’t change your mind overnight.”

  Tia watched him from the corner of her eye as she searched the remaining cupboards. No way could she afford to change her mind.

  Colt had found a loose floorboard and was determined to stomp it into place with his boot. Viciously. It was almost as if he wanted to scare her off. He might try to run her out with his attitude, but she was the wronged party here. Not him. He should make the effort to get along with her, all things considered.

  “I won’t change my mind.” She had strength now that she hadn’t before.

  Colt straightened, giving her one of those full-body all-over, up-and-down looks.

  She waited, letting him look, feeling a trail of warmth wherever his gaze lingered. Even while her brain screamed at her to turn away, ignore him and this intimidation tactic, her body tensed, all the while waiting for a caustic remark. Who knew what he might say? And who cared if he liked what he saw? His preference in women had been decided years ago.

  Nothing came. Just a grunt he made to punctuate the end of his perusal, followed by an empty feeling in Tia’s heart when he stalked toward the door. The same stained glass, embedded high in the dark wood door, gleamed with the evening sunlight.

  Colt paused and his brow furrowed as he seemed to fixate on it.

  Tia wondered what deep memories it evoked.

  Finally he turned to her, one hand on the doorknob. “You want pizza when I come back?”

  She nodded, and he left her there, obviously surprised at the question.

  ~*~

  Colt threw his truck into gear and backed out onto the road, anxious to put some distance between him and Tia Francis. He was not a wimp; he could control most situations, and here he was flip-flopping like a beached fish. He’d never tried to contact her once he’d remembered. For her sake. He knew he couldn’t live and work with Tia. Not after all that had happened.

  He gripped the wheel, knuckles whitening, and the truck slid around a curve in the road. The inn needed work−and Colt needed Tia’s money to do it right. That would have to be the sole reason for their partnership. It would be a business relationship, nothing more. Nothing he couldn’t handle. Colt slowed to a stop at the warning light ahead.

  He could keep his distance from Tia. He had to, despite the fact that when his memory had returned, so had his feelings for her.

  A car honking snagged his attention, and Colt saw the light was green.

  ~*~

  Tia situated herself and her laptop in her favorite guest room. It was the cleanest, and she’d always loved the little foyer right inside the hall door, which led into the large room with sofa, fireplace, and four-poster bed. The decor was charmingly old-fashioned, with antique artwork and needlepoint touches. The room also had a glass-topped table with cafe chairs, and there she set up her computer and hooked into the phone line. Luckily, Mr. Berger had made sure the utilities were on.

  After sending e-mail messages to her suppliers, she outlined her next few weeks of work in her calendar program. Most of it involved cleaning the guest rooms, followed by shopping or online ordering of fresh touches, including guest towels, shapely bottles of massage oils, and a variety of candles. She wanted her guests to feel pampered. Years ago, Colt’s father had offered a special package to writers who wanted to spend a week or more “away from it all,” and she hoped to do the same.

  She didn’t hear Colt return, but smelled the pepperoni from her room. The aroma, tinged with garlic, was one of her favorites, and she closed her computer lid and followed her nose. She found Colt in the kitchen, rifling through drawers.

  “Smells great,” she said, moving to stand next to him. “What are you looking for?”

  “Knife. Or pizza cutter, whatever.”

  Tia produced a steak knife from a drawer she’d checked out earlier, and they re-cut the pie into manageable slices. The gooey mozzarella dripped over her fingers as she carried her plate, by its edge, to the main dining table.

  “Thank you for bringing food,” she said between bites. Colt watched her from the opposite end of the table.

  “I got wine, too,” he said, and left the room. Moments later he returned with a bottle of Merlot, a brand Tia recognized, and two glasses still wet from rinsing.

  “I’m impressed. Nice wine, but I don’t drink anymore.”

  He shrugged, working a corkscrew into the bottle’s neck. “I’ve learned a bit about it.”

  From Cami, she thought, knowing without him saying it. His girlfriend had taught him about wine, because when Tia knew Colt, his beverage of choice had been beer. Her face warmed at the thought, while her mind knew she shouldn’t be jealous. That relationship was clearly over now. She was the one here with Colt, sharing a meal, staying in the same house, making plans for the future.

  She sat straighter, reminding herself that this was clearly a business relationship. She had to remember that, despite the way her nerves jangled every time she was near him. He had chosen someone else to care for him after the accident, someone else to care for, regardless of the fact he was no longer with that person. She remembered this as he opened the wine and poured himself a glass, the fluid splashing into one of the crystal goblets he’d found. He got her water.

  They ate in silence after he said a quick prayer.

  Outside an owl hooted occasionally, and Tia began running her finger around the rim of her water glass, creating a hum, just to break the feeling of isolation. “Too bad we don’t have a CD player. I’ll bring one from home.”

  Colt nodded, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Good idea.” And the silence resumed. He didn’t ask when she’d head home or when she planned to return.

  Licking the last speck of bitter oregano from her fingers, Tia felt bold, either from the setting or from the need to know. She wasn’t sure which. If they would be working together, there were things she had to know. “When did you start to remember?”

  His hand froze en route to his mouth, but then Colt set aside his pizza. He stared at her across the table, and Tia felt his hesitation and saw his forehead wrinkle. He wiped his hands on a paper towel.

  She waited. Would he answer?

  “I guess it was January or so. Right after Gran died.” He rubbed the paper towel across his face. “I felt this stab of pain in my gut, and suddenly I remembered that I’d loved her all my life and that she’d helped raise me. And then I walked through this place, dazed, and everywhere I looked was another memory suddenly shooting off like a firecracker. A slew of them that day, some the next, some later. Even now I still glean an old memory here and there.”

  Tia watched his face as the little vein she remembered emerged from his temple. His face was leaner now, the cheekbones more pronounced than she remembered. Maybe the longer hair just gave that appearance, or maybe the stress caused it.

  “My head pounded that first day. I mean, it pounded. It took months for my brain to sort it all out. The worst came after Cami left. It was tough then.” He took a breath and rubbed his eyes. “Really tough. I wasn’t sure what was real anymore. What was a memory. What to call the memories I had from when I didn’t have a memory.”

  Tia clutched her glass, feeling the smile wobbling on her face. She knew his last comment had to hurt, considering those memories were of another woman. What could she say to that? She tapped her nails on the crystal. “I can’t believe I got you to say all that.”

  “You always did bring out the long-winded part of me.” />
  “Really?” Tia lifted her glass to him. “Then, cheers to me.” She finished the water and set the goblet to one side, aware of her nervous tapping on the glass. She stilled her hand. Her tummy fluttered with a thousand butterflies as she listened to Colt’s story. She was envious. Worse, she was out-and-out jealous of Cami, who was no longer a part of Colt’s life. She felt green around her very edges.

  It might be the dim lighting, but for some reason Colt was talking about himself, and Tia didn’t recall that ever happening before. She used to talk to him, tell him about her day, her friends, her feelings; but he used to mostly listen. She pushed her plate to one side, crossed her arms on the table, and leaned toward the dark-haired man. “Please, go on.”

  “What else do you want to know? You, of all people, know exactly when I lost my mind, and now you know when it started to come back.” He crossed his arms, pushing back in his chair.

  “You lost your memory, Colt, and if it’s not restored completely it sounds close. I understand, I think, the trauma your mind went through. I just wish...” She couldn’t finish her thought, because she wasn’t sure what she wanted.

  “What do you wish, Tia?” His voice was soft, carrying across the room in the empty air.

  Shaking her head, Tia began to rearrange her fork and knife. The utensils bothered her, needed her attention. She’d sworn to herself she’d never ask this. That she’d go to her grave, pride somewhat intact, never having asked this question. “I just wish I understood one thing, is all.” She reached for her paper towel-napkin and tapped her nails through it, causing only a soft noise on the table.

  He stood and moved to refill her glass, the clear liquid swishing quietly into the goblet. “Heaven knows I don’t have a good handle on reality yet, but I’m trying to be honest with you here. What don’t you understand?”

  Tia’s mouth dried, and she knew her voice would crack. But she needed to know. She turned to Colt, noting absently that he hadn’t touched his wine.

  “How you could have chosen my sister.”

  2

  She couldn’t believe she’d just said that. Reaching for the oregano, Tia bumped Colt’s glass and watched the Merlot splash across the table, drenching the faded blue tablecloth and humiliating her even further.

  They both jumped up. She grabbed the toppled glass, and he blotted the table with the now purple cloth, preventing any excess from hitting the hardwood floor.

  Their hands brushed. Just the backs−along with a bit of knuckle−but Tia gasped at the spark she felt. Unable to speak, she simply stared at Colt, watching as his eyes darkened to a gun metal gray. Watched as he balled up the tablecloth into a blotchy bundle and walked toward the kitchen.

  Tia followed with the plates and the pizza box, which still held half of the pie. She’d lost her appetite and it seemed Colt had as well. She hadn’t been sure the chemistry would still be there, but it was.

  Pushing through the swinging wood doors, she saw Colt at the sink, staring out of the small box window, his back to Tia, the cloth forgotten in the stainless steel sink. She dumped the stuff and moved to stand behind him, much as she had outside, earlier, when she’d first arrived for the auction. With the lightest touch she could muster, Tia tapped a nail on his arm.

  He stiffened, and she dropped her hand.

  “Colt, I apologize for that question. It wasn’t fair, I know. No matter how honest you wanted to be.” She held her breath then, afraid he’d clam up on her so that she’d never dig up the real Colt again.

  Mr. Berger had told her Colt was considering taking over the inn, warned her he might show up at the auction. And that’s why she’d really come here today, she realized−more than her need to create a successful inn and greater than her desire to continue where her mother had left off−she’d come here to find out what had happened to this man she’d once loved so deeply.

  “This won’t work,” he said finally.

  Her stomach dropped. “What?”

  “The inn, doing it together. We could have the best intentions in the world, and it will always come back to that one question. I was kidding myself this morning, thinking it could be a friendly partnership, businesslike, because I need your money. Not to mention the fact that it doesn’t look right for us to be here alone, together.”

  Tia placed her hands on his arms, silently willing him to turn and face her.

  But he didn’t. He just leaned over the sink, bracing his hands on either side, as if he needed the support.

  Tia paced the kitchen, circling the butcher-block table. She wasn’t letting him give up that easily. And he needed her to make this work. “Colt, I’m driving back to town tonight and back home tomorrow after we meet at the bank. I am investing in this place and we will make it work. I won’t ask you about Cami again, I swear.” She paused and touched the dull, steel refrigerator door. “We won’t be alone long, it’s a business and we’ll have guests. I’ll get groceries and cleaning supplies, while you take care of things that need tools.” Talking too quickly, she moved around the room, touching the cool surfaces of the appliances. “I’ve been planning this for months. I’ve prayed about it forever. I just didn’t expect to have a partner. I thought I’d have to hire a handyman. After I set the kitchen up, I’ll−”

  “Tia.”

  She looked up.

  “You don’t have to try so hard.” Colt faced her now, his shoulders slumped. “I know how much this must mean to you, to come back after everything that happened. I won’t back out, if this is what you want. I owe you that much. But I can’t give you what you need.”

  Tia stopped moving, backing against the pie safe. “Oh?” She tapped her nails on the rough wood cabinet, further chipping off the clear polish. “And what’s that?” She held her breath.

  “An answer to your question.”

  ~*~

  Tia looked around her small garden apartment, sighed, and began to take down the bright yellow patio curtains which outlined her sliders. They would look great in the breakfast room of the inn, one of the many rooms opening to the pool area.

  She felt a bit wistful at leaving the apartment since it had been her first home outside of college dorms, which never counted, anyway. But she’d been planning on this move since September when she’d first learned that Mrs. Reece had died, leaving the place vacant because her beloved grandson wanted no part of it.

  At least, not until now.

  It was just her unfortunate timing that Colt had come to his senses before the auction. She didn’t know how she felt about working with him−although he knew how to spruce up the buildings after years of managing a construction firm.

  Funny how fast he’d moved up the ranks of the Canton family’s company, reaching such a high position after only eight years. After all, before the accident he’d flown commercial planes for a living. That wasn’t real exciting, but certainly different than supervising building projects.

  As her partner here, he could do things himself that would have quickly used up her precious inheritance.

  When she’d first met Colt, Tia had thought of him as the cover model for an adventurous romance novel. His job as a pilot seemed exciting to her, even dangerous. And even after he lost his memory, she’d held out hope for them as a couple, even if he could no longer fly.

  She’d read tons of books in which the main character met that special someone during a bout with amnesia, and they’d fallen in love. So she’d hoped Colt would fall in love again, with her, while he’d struggled to rebuild his life. In the stories, the couple had to wonder throughout what would happen when the memory returned−would they still be in love?

  But it wasn’t to be her story. Tia felt like a minor character coming in at the end of the book. Instead of playing the heroine, Cami had swept her aside, and when Colt’s memory came bursting back to him, his love story with Cami crumbled. She knew Colt had never been meant to be with Cami. The hero was not supposed to want the heroine’s sister.

  The accident had
devastated Tia. After the trauma of nearly drowning, Tia had lost her boyfriend and her sister. Oh, she’d seen Cami at Aunt Ethel’s annual Christmas open house every year. But with both parents gone, and even their stepfather deceased, there was no one to push the sisters back together.

  And Tia, although civil with Cami, hadn’t found the spiritual maturity to reach out and love her sister again, to regain that closeness they’d shared as kids. She’d learned to forgive, technically. She knew forgiveness was crucial. Forgetting was something she hadn’t yet mastered.

  Tia sealed a plastic bag holding the metal pinch pleats, and along with it, her longing for her little sister.

  Cami had taken advantage of Tia’s weakness, pushing into Colt’s life while Tia tried to put her own back together.

  Colt was suffering even now, though the petty side of Tia thought he deserved it. Would he give up his job with Canton Construction? Or would he feel as if he was giving up on something again, the way he must have after leaving the airline? Giving up that career had to have been tough, but Colt didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps those memories never came back too strongly, since he sounded eager to begin fixing up the inn and its outhouses.

  Tia smiled and dropped the baggie in the cardboard carton atop the drapes. Not outhouses. Outbuildings. She remembered Colt teasing her about using that term years ago, when they were kids. They’d had a few years together at the inn after Tia’s mother took a job there, before Colt had earned his wings and moved on.

  Bright sunlight poured into the room as Tia stretched a length of black tape across the top of the box, smiling again as she thought of how Colt’s father, George, would have yelled if he’d seen her using his electrical tape to seal something. She missed him and his fatherly ways.